How Else Was He Supposed To Learn?
by dendriticgold
Summary: Jimmy has a proposal for Alfred. (Jimmy/Alfred, AU within S3 CS) WARNING for M/M slash relations.


**How Else Was He Suppose To Learn?**

By some extreme cock up of logic that redefined the essence of the word 'fail' Jimmy and Alfred were both sat side by side, bored out of their skulls, each with a full solitaire spread of cards sitting in front of them on the table.

The idea of actually playing cards together, and wondering how one or both of them had been so dense as to not think of it in the first place, had periodically surfaced in their minds over the course of the last couple of hours, but neither of them had the will to actually vocalise it.

It had been a very long day.

So long that the idea of climbing the stairs, like making the effort to start up a proper card game, was completely un-actionable given their current level of exhaustion.

Alfred had made the token 'We should go up' suggestion about half an hour earlier, but the suggestion lacked conviction and Jimmy hadn't bothered to reply.

The corridor outside the servant's hall was dark, Mr Carson having already turned out the lights with the strict orders that the two Footmen should be off to bed immediately. That had been about two hours ago.

Groaning a little, disgruntled in his fatigue, Alfred let his mind wander as he shifted a card into a position that was wrong for both it's color and number. Of course, it wandered to Ivy.

It wandered over her silky hair, the little wisps of it that sometimes strayed over her temples; down to her cheeks and how…suggestive the flush of color had looked before Mrs Patmore made her wash the rouge off; down to her lips that always had teasing and dismissive and oh so maddeningly welcome words for him; down to the skin of her neck, as smooth and white as that of any noble lady, skin that would be so soft to touch with fingers and lips; and the wide collar of the green-checked dress that dipped into a smart V at her breast-bone showing just a little more than one would usually see; the little buttons that could be undone in order to see more…

A snort of laughter rapidly brought Alfred back to the present.

'Well no need to ask what you're thinking about.' Said Jimmy with a raised eyebrow, card game forgotten, head resting on his palm, looking pointedly down at Alfred's crotch area.

'Shut up.' Mumbled Alfred shifting a little in his seat to make the protruding appendage slightly less obvious.

Jimmy laughed again in amusement at Alfred's embarrassment.

'It'll go away in a minute!' Alfred asserted gruffly, turning vigorously back to his card game to end the uncomfortable exchange.

Jimmy's eyes lingered a moment more before he dropped his elbow off the table and turned back to his own deck of cards. He ran his fingers lightly over the edges of one of the rows of cards for a while before speaking.

'Alfred do you ever…' He said softly, trailing off.

'What?' Said Alfred, dearly hoping for a change in topic.

'…touch yourself, down there.'

Alfred wasn't entirely sure what to make of that particular query. And his eyes reflected that as he snapped his head around to stare at Jimmy in intense confusion.

'It's just…I do.' Said Jimmy with a dismissive shrug.

'Alright.' Said Alfred, for want of a better response, still staring at him dubiously.

'Do you?' Jimmy persisted.

'I suppose.' Said Alfred quietly, turning back to his cards.

Jimmy watched him silently for a moment before speaking again.

'Has anyone else ever done it for you?'

'What?!' Said Alfred, turning back towards him again, this time with a deep frown. 'Why would anyone else have…?'

'Women do it sometimes.' Said Jimmy, with no greater preamble than if he had been stating a 'did you know' fact off the back of a cigarette packet. 'They do it for their men.'

'Oh…' Said Alfred softly, his mind drifting back to Ivy but then quickly redirecting; finding the notion that Jimmy described horrendously improper when it came to his dreams of (he sincerely hoped) his future wife.

'I was just wondering…' Jimmy said, very tentatively. '…what it…how it works when someone else is doing it. I mean, do they do it like you would do it yourself…or are there other…things.'

'How would I bloody know!?' Hissed Alfred, hunching stiffly over the table, desperately trying to pretend to be playing cards.

Jimmy swallowed heavily.

'Would you tell me?' He said quietly, shifting his chair a tiny bit closer to Alfred's.

'How can I when I haven't…?'

Jimmy bit his lip.

'If I did it for you, would you tell me?' He said quietly.

'What the fuck are you on about!?' Alfred grunted, staring at the cards in front of him so intently that it was a wonder they didn't go up in flames.

'I could do it for you…' Said Jimmy, looking at him intently. 'Then you could tell me if what I'm doing is…good.'

'But why would you want…?' Alfred began.

'Does it matter?' Said Jimmy quickly in a harsh voice. He calmed himself down before continuing. 'The point is…' He said levelly. 'I want to know how it works to use my hand on someone else, and you…' Jimmy flicked his eyes down. '…could use a hand, couldn't you?'

Alfred looked down at the table in horrified silence.

'I don't mean anything by it!' Said Jimmy.

Alfred said nothing.

'I'm just asking if I can…' Jimmy said softly. '…touch it, try some things out. That's all. You don't have to do anything. Just tell me if it…feels good.' Jimmy practically whispered the last part and Alfred was intensely disturbed by the prickles of (distress?…anticipation?…arousal?) that suddenly shivered up the back of his neck at Jimmy's words.

'And who are you practicing for then, eh?' Said Alfred gruffly.

Jimmy's nostrils flared slightly at the insinuation, but he otherwise ignored Alfred's question except to note with satisfaction that Alfred hadn't actually refused him.

'Am I to take that as a 'yes' then?' Jimmy whispered, shifting his chair that little bit closer.

Alfred didn't move, save to uncross his legs at the ankle and give a noncommittal shrug as he made a show of pretending to carry on with his game of solitaire. A game he was destined to lose as while his fingers were busy shunting cards around, his eyes were completely focused sideways on the progress of Jimmy's hand as it inched it's way towards his trouser front.

His lips fell open, gradually wider as Jimmy's hand drew nearer.

As the tips of two of his fingers made contact with the tented fabric at Alfred's crotch, Jimmy gave a slight gasp, pausing for a moment to allow Alfred to re-evaluate should he decide he suddenly didn't wish to participate in the experiment.

But no protests were forthcoming.

Jimmy was surprised to note a slight hitch in Alfred's breathing at just the barest suggestion of contact.

As he ran the tips of his fingers up to the peak of the protrusion the change in breathing became more marked, and not just through nerves.

Jimmy was utterly astonished, silently remarking to himself that there clearly wasn't as much to this business as he had previously assumed.

He circled the pads of his fingers over what he presumed was the head of Alfred's penis, watching the twitching pulse at the side of Alfred's neck as a measure of how much effect even this lightest of touches was having.

The effect was truly remarkable. Alfred's breaths were shortening and his cheeks were rouged red.

Emboldened by his success, Jimmy reached forward further to bring his whole hand into contact, rolling his palm over the tip in place of his fingers and sliding his whole hand experimentally down and up the underside of Alfred's fabric-swathed erection (which was suddenly far more prominent than it had been a few moments earlier).

'Is that…good.' Said Jimmy tentatively, worried about breaking the moment (or sending Alfred running screaming for the doorway at the realisation of what they were doing) but equally concerned about receiving proper feedback.

Alfred nodded, his mouth now hanging open as Jimmy repeated the motion of sliding his open palm down his crotch. 'That is…' He gasped out, well on his way to completely forgetting why he should feel any dis-ease whatsoever about something that could feel quite so delicious. '…oh…yes, like that…' He said as Jimmy's fingers once again ran up and down his shaft, but this time with his fingers curling slightly to find and follow the outline of his penis under the fabric of his trousers and undergarments. '…keep doing it all the way up…' Jimmy complied, grinning to himself at the sight of Alfred's mouth now hanging open with abandon. '…oh just…harder, yeah, harder.' Alfred said breathily.

Jimmy shifted a little closer to allow him more leverage, staring intently down at the straining bulge that grew even more insistent and prominent under his hand as he followed Alfred's direction.

A small moan escaped from Alfred's throat as he accidently twisted his hand sideways while in transit.

Jimmy repeated the move, this time with languid and firm purpose.

'Oh God yes…' Came the response.

His grin now impossibly wide, Jimmy settled into a rhythm of stroking along the length of Alfred's penis while giving a small twist of his wrist upon approaching the tip, before shifting to slide his hand back down again to repeat the move from the beginning.

In what seemed like no time at all, Alfred's breaths had become forceful and erratic. Jimmy continued his ministrations with renewed vigor in response, marveling at the potency of the simple act in reducing a grown man to a hyperventilating mess.

Alfred wasn't a complete mess by that point though.

When Jimmy suddenly realised Alfred had lowered his own hands to his crotch area, he had a brief moment of panic that Alfred had had an inconveniently timed change of heart (and feared somewhat for the future of his face should Alfred decide that he had indulged in the act under coercion) but it proved to be unfounded.

Alfred briefly batted Jimmy's hand away to allow him to shakily, and hurriedly, get the front of his trousers open.

Jimmy's initial relief at the proof of Alfred's willing participation in the event was tinged with a distinct sense of alarm at the sight of Alfred pulling down the waistband of his underpants to fully release his erection.

Somehow the prospect of actually touching 'it', and 'it' alone, without the safety blanket of a few layers of fabric seemed utterly terrifying.

Alfred clearly had no such qualms. His breathing still ragged and primal, he grabbed for Jimmy's hand and guided it back to his penis, closing his fist around it to get Jimmy to do the same.

Jimmy's eyes widened at the unexpected texture of the skin, and the way it dragged as he moved his hand. He found himself wondering if some kind of liquid or grease might help things along, but as Alfred insistently clamped a hand over his to urge him back into the same firm rhythm as before Jimmy allowed such thoughts to leave his mind as he focused entirely on the pulsing at Alfred's neck that told him he was doing a damn good job.

'Oh God…Oh God…' That Alfred could form words at all at that point was something of a miracle. Jimmy watched as every muscle in Alfred's body suddenly tensed.

Almost too late, Jimmy realised what was imminent and endeavored to ensure that the 'direction of release' was not anywhere near his direction, reasoning that Alfred would have more than enough time to clean his waistcoat before breakfast the next morning.

When it was over he slowly extracted his hand, surprised to find himself panting heavily too (though nowhere near as intensely as Alfred) at the pent up tension.

Alfred sat; lolling back in his chair for a few moments, grappling with his breathing and heartbeat, unconcerned for the moment at being laid out sticky and exposed for the whole world to see (should the whole world happen to look through the door to the servant's hall).

After an inordinately long amount of time, Alfred finally pulled himself back up into an upright sitting position.

Both he and Jimmy pulled out their respective handkerchiefs to do a little spring cleaning.

'So was that…?' Jimmy said softly, already knowing the answer.

'There aren't words!' Said Alfred with a far-away smile. 'But I'm getting married as soon as bloody possible!' He said with a throaty chuckle.

Jimmy smirked in response. 'God, you're a filthy one aren't you!' He said in mock indignation.

In the days that followed things continued much as they always had, leaving both Jimmy and Alfred to marvel at having achieved the seemingly impossible task of sexual experimentation (and gratification) without any nasty fallout or awkwardness. In fact, it had gone on to become something of a private joke between them. At the sight of either of them handling something even vaguely cylindrical in shape, the two of them would invariably collapse into fits of giggles.

The situation between them was so…at ease…that Jimmy found himself pondering the potential for using Alfred as a test subject for another act that he had been thinking on.

But he resolved to shelf that particular notion for the time being, not wanting to risk the pleasant camaraderie that existed between himself and Alfred (and still not quite believing that he had gotten away with it once, let alone risking a second go).

Although he promised himself that he would take the opportunity in a heart-beat should Alfred bring it up again (so to speak) as he still found himself feeling an intense lack of the confidence and experience that he required in that arena in order to…well, be confident in that arena.

The chance came quite unexpectedly.

As Jimmy sat working the silver polish over one of over a dozen candlesticks laid out on the table in front of him (not to mention the seven trays, two dozen goblets, four teapots, nine serving dishes and a seemingly infinite number of serviette rings), he caught Alfred watching him out of the corner of his eye.

Jimmy glanced at the candle stick in his gloved hands and smirked. 'Thinking about nice things Alfred?' He said, anticipating another jovial jest in kind.

But Alfred didn't reply right away, and when he did it was merely to give a small, slightly agitated, laugh.

Glancing sideways at Alfred, Jimmy proceeded to give the candlestick far more attention than strictly necessary with his hand.

'Would you ever…' Alfred said hoarsely, suddenly feeling the need to clear his throat before speaking again. '…think about…practicing…some more?'

Jimmy's internal smirk grew wider.

'Perhaps…' He said softly. 'You know, if someone were willing.'

'I might be.' Said Alfred a little too quickly. If you wanted to.' He said, speaking deliberately slower.

Jimmy licked his lips and glanced behind Alfred over at the door.

'No time like the present…' He whispered.

'You'd never!' Said Alfred in shock. Indicating the sunlight around them as though the very fact of it being day meant that such things could not happen.

'Everyone's busy!' Said Jimmy with a grin. 'You know that. And Mr Carson knows there's no point checking on this lot…' He indicated the cavalcade of silverware on the table with a tilt of his head. '…for at least another few hours. So…' Jimmy slowly pulled off his gloves. '…what do you think?'

'I think you're mad.' Said Alfred simply.

'Am I to take that as a 'yes' then?' Jimmy said, repeating the phrase which had kick started it all on the previous occasion, with a devilish grin.

Alfred wiggled his eyebrows at him in response.

Jimmy leaned in a little, but paused.

'Alfred…' He said slowly. 'Would you mind if I tried something else?'

'Jimmy, you know I won't be doing none of that.' Said Alfred firmly, if a little apologetically.

'No, no…I don't mean…that. I was just wondering if I could…use my mouth, this time.'

Alfred's own mouth fell open, ostensibly to protest, but any such objections were quickly quelled by the small voice in his head that alerted him to the possible benefits of sheathing himself somewhere both warm and wet.

'Um…well, I suppose…perhaps…' He stuttered, blushing furiously.

'Good.' Jimmy cut in, unwilling to waste time now that the opportunity had presented itself.

Before Alfred could say anything more, Jimmy was under the table.

Alfred lightly rested his hands on the table top, clutching the silver polish rag for dear life as he felt Jimmy's fingers begin to work open his trousers.

There was something of an awkward pause at Jimmy's realisation that some work would be in order before Alfred was actually 'up' for the planned experiment.

As he took Alfred in hand, a slightly awkward endeavor given his cramped position under the table, he was a little disappointed to find that quite a bit of work was required to coax Alfred's arousal into play. He almost abandoned the task entirely at one point, but a quick 'keep going' from Alfred had him persevering.

Jimmy was intensely relieved (for the sake of his own pride, and the sake of his [hopeful] future conquest) when Alfred's penis began to finally pay proper attention to his efforts.

On the plus side, the long time spent working it over with his hand, merely inches from his face due to his kneeling position on the floor, gave him a far longer time to get acquainted with the various components of the 'penis' as an entity than he had had on the previous hurried occasion.

It was with only minor trepidation that Jimmy knelt up and brought his lips to the tip, opening his mouth enough to accommodate it (which turned out to be a surprisingly large amount) before darting his tongue out for a small taste of the underside.

A muffled moan of surprise and pleasure from Alfred reverberated from above the table.

Jimmy closed his mouth a little to bring his lips into full contact before pulling back, allowing the moistened head to slide slowly out of his mouth.

He licked his lips before leaning in for another go.

This time he kept his mouth open and accommodating for as long as he could manage in a prospective attempt to see how much of Alfred's erection he could actually accommodate. The answer seemed to be far less than he would have hoped.

He drew back, momentarily disregarding the noises coming from Alfred as he pondered the problem at hand; of precisely how the base of the penis could ever receive action during such an activity.

Jimmy leant forward again, this time without taking Alfred in his mouth and instead extending his tongue to lick long, firm and wet trails along the entire length of his penis.

If the twitching of the knee by the side of his head was anything to go by, Jimmy gauged that Alfred approved.

Smiling in triumph, Jimmy let the head of Alfred's erection slide into his mouth again, teasing at the underside with his tongue again as he did. He then drew back, not far enough to release Alfred's penis entirely, but far enough to elicit a disappointed gasp of protest which rapidly turned into a moan of intense pleasure as Jimmy slid forward again, finding he could get a little further that time before feeling in danger of suffocation.

The sensations assaulting Jimmy's various senses were not all entirely pleasant, in particular Alfred's scent, which did absolutely nothing for Jimmy whatsoever, but he did find himself becoming strangely attached to the feeling of opening his mouth wide to accommodate the offered appendage, and to the feeling of slippery skin under his tongue.

Jimmy moaned in contentment as he dipped his head forwards for another (metaphorical) bite.

The bite very nearly became a reality as Mr Carson's voice suddenly boomed from the doorway.

'Alfred, where is James?'

'Oh…he's…' Alfred was highly distracted by Jimmy extracting himself down below, but endeavored to speak as levelly as possible. 'I think he popped out, to get a drink or something, Mr Carson.'

'I don't think so…' At the sound of Thomas's voice, Jimmy's head very nearly collided with the table above. 'I would have seen him. I've just come from the kitchens.' Said Thomas.

Jimmy watched in abject terror as Thomas's shoes took a few slow steps into the hall, coming to a stop by the side of the table.

'Well, wherever he has gone…' Said Carson in agitation. 'I have some important information for the both of you. I will wait for James's return.'

Alfred's eyes widened, firstly at Mr Carson's words and secondly at the sight of him approaching the neighboring chair.

'No!' Alfred shouted.

Carson drew back a little in surprise. 'What on earth has gotten into you Alfred?'

It took Alfred a short while to arrive at the only workable plan.

'You're busy, Mr Carson. I know you are…' Said Alfred quickly. 'So perhaps just Mr Barrow could wait and tell us the news, so you can be on your way?'

Alfred felt fingernails digging painfully into his ankle.

He mentally apologized; silently challenging Jimmy to have come up with a better plan (one that wouldn't result in their instant dismissal).

Carson humphed in irritation.

Alfred shot Thomas a pleading look, which sent Thomas's eyebrows up skywards at the realisation that if Alfred was looking to him for help then the situation must be dire.

'I can do it, Mr Carson.' Said Thomas with a reassuring smile.

'Very well. And you might also remind James that taking breaks from work is not acceptable until after the work is completed.' Said Carson sternly as he turned and left.

Thomas's smile abruptly vanished.

'What have you gone and done?' He said to Alfred.

Alfred bit his lip miserably, giving a slight shake of his head.

Thomas sighed.

'Where's James?' He said, locking his gaze onto Alfred's, daring him to attempt to lie or withhold information.

Alfred grimaced, apologising profusely to Jimmy in his head as he glanced downwards.

Thomas followed his gaze to the wood of the table, then looked back up at him with a quizzical eyebrow.

Alfred glanced down at the table again, this time using his whole head to make the gesture absolutely clear.

Thomas glanced down at the wood of the table again, then up at Alfred's expression, then down at the table…his gaze suddenly snapped back up to Alfred's, eyes wide in shock.

Alfred bit his lip again and gave a small, pained, nod.

Thomas blinked. Raised a hand to his mouth. Lowered it again. Turned. And left the room.

Jimmy had no way of knowing the finer details of the silent exchange between Thomas and Alfred, but he comprehended enough in Alfred's pained 'Mr Barrow, I'm sorry…' as Thomas left the room to know that the only appropriate response was to hug his legs to his chest and bury his head in his knees.

Above, Alfred took a moment to refasten his trousers before reaching for the serving dish he had been polishing; desolate in the knowledge that that there was absolutely nothing he could say at that moment to improve the situation.


End file.
